


Kevin's Foxes

by DreamersAndThieves



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: But it's there, Mention of abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Riko is mentioned but not actually there, kind of but not really ptsd yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamersAndThieves/pseuds/DreamersAndThieves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin and his point of view on things going on around Palmetto State.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kevin's Foxes

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic that I've tried to write for The Foxhole Court and all the fandom (hopefully it's not complete shit)
> 
> Kevin just needs more love even though he's a controlling asshole.

 

Wymack starts back on the mounds of paperwork on his desk as soon as Neil leaves his office. And even though he could make a dent in the papers, his desk would never be clean again, it never had been from the day it was brought in. But then Kevin walks in with a haunted clouding his eyes. This is far from the distant, obsessed with Exy and perfection, striker that Wymack almost always sees. This is the Kevin who has to down copious amounts of alcohol to be relatively normal whenever they got too close to the Ravens. But this was a whole step up from that, there was pure dread behind his dull eyes. No amount of alcohol could fix the situation that was about to unfold.

Kevin turns his back to Wymack to close the door, lingering just a little too long with his hand on the doorknob. Contemplating whether or not all of this was a good idea and trying to steel himself for the oncoming firestorm. Finally, Kevin turns back around to see Wymack had straightened up in his chair a little bit. Both had never been the type for subtlety and didn't know the meaning of the phrase "letting someone down easy". They were all for deadpanned answers and not dropping hints.

"Kayleigh Day was my mother." Kevin states, his voice was dead, no emotion.

"Yeah, I think the whole world knows that. What's your point?"

Kevin hesitates for just a moment, curling his hands into fists. His knuckles are white by the time he opens his mouth. "Kayleigh was my mother and _you_ are my father."

And the world shatters for both of them. It's the first time that Kevin has ever told anyone other than a select few, let alone the man whom he was keeping this secret from. Kevin braces himself for anything that could come, be it harsh words like he was now accustomed to or blows that he had softened from being away from the Ravens for so long. There's only one regret clouding Kevin's mind, and it was the choice not to drink before letting Wymack in on the secret.

Wymack on the other hand, he was sitting as still as Kevin had seen him since the day he was thrust into Palmetto State's care. He was a statue made of stone and his eyes were cold and hard as ice while trying to process the information. "Is there proof? And how long have you known?"

"I have my birth certificate, yeah. She listed you as the father. I've known for a long time, it just…wasn't ever a good time to bring it up."

Wymack snorts and slowly gets up from his desk chair, putting his hands flat on the desk before leaning over it. He stares at Kevin with those ice cold eyes. This _kid_ was _his_ kid. All those times that he gave Kevin those bottles of vodka to calm him down, all the hours they'd practiced at the stadium, right here outside his office. Kevin wasn't just a player, he was family. And Kevin knew that Wymack was his family, but he still treats everything with his fucking "me against the world" attitude. Wymack and Kayleigh had a son and he is standing right here, right in front of Wymack without so much as a facial expression. The kid really was too broken to care.

Kevin hadn't let up on the pressure of balling his fists up. His knuckles were bone white and his left hand was beginning to ache. The pain grounded him, but also brought back all the memories of Riko smashing his dreams to pieces. "Are you going to say something?" Kevin asks quietly, his voice just above a whisper. It was all he could manage without letting his façade crack and split wide open straight down the middle.

"You want me to say something, Kevin? Sure, I'll say something. Why the _hell_ did you come into my office this afternoon and drop this bomb on me? Why now? What the hell makes today so special?" Wymack growls at his striker, he hadn't realized it, but his voice was all but shaking the placards hanging up on the walls. He slams his fist down on the table, rattling the lamps and stacks of paper as he does. Kevin visibly flinches, though he tries his best to hide it, and sucks in a deep breath.

"The reporters will talk more about me any day compared to Neil. They'll be thrilled to know who Kevin Day's father really is after all these years." There was nothing behind Kevin's eyes anymore. And no one, no one wore that look well, not even Andrew.

“Get out of my office, Day. We’re going to pick this conversation back up when I feel like I can actually comprehend anything that you tell me.”

Kevin nods stiffly, willing his body to break out of the statue-like stance that he had held. His muscles ache even though none of this could have been more than ten minutes, but he turns and heads out of the Coach’s office without a sound. The throbbing in his left hand had gotten out of control but all he could do was flex his fingers and wish the pain away.

* * *

 

Kevin sits in the common area of the dorm all night with only lines of moonlight streaming in through the half-closed blinds on the window. Around him, there are way too few bottles of various alcohol littering the ground. _Why, for one night, can I just not feel?_ he thinks to himself. All those times that he had gotten so blackout drunk, he couldn't remember his name in the morning or even make it to his feet. Why was everything so hard with him? Riko always comes back, even when his shaking has stopped, even when he can't see straight anymore. Riko is there, Riko's voice is whispering in his ear and there's always the pressure of the flat side of a knife pressed to his throat. Screams no one but Riko and himself could hear and the sounds of cracking bone. The sound of what he'd been trained to do all of his life slipping away and breaking. With just a few hard stomps of Riko's boot.

There was nothing to help Kevin forget about what had happened, no way to ever erase anything permanently from his mind.

But at least second best would always give him a buffer to lean on.


End file.
